


Killing Their Egos

by TheImpossibleIsPossible



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8520349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheImpossibleIsPossible/pseuds/TheImpossibleIsPossible
Summary: Patterson is thriving in the industry while Tasha struggles as she is fixated in a sole position at work. Yet, it is not just work that Tasha struggles with, internally she fights to keep her walls up and stray from love. But that evidentially gets challenged.





	1. The VP and the Secretary

**Author's Note:**

> AU, btw  
> Sorry, the idea just came to me, and I couldn't stop.  
> Will mainly be focused on Tasha and Patterson.  
> Also, sorry if any terms are hella wrong. I'm not a designer.

It would be little to say that Tasha disliked Patterson. No, on the contrary, the work-obsessed woman deeply despised Patterson. Her passion for hating on Patterson grew dramatically as Patterson ascended in KJ WELLER. Only six months ago she remembered when Patterson walked through the doors attempting to get an internship. Now, Tasha saw Patterson walk through those same doors as the vice president of KJ WELLER. She found it ridiculous how Patterson’s salary could go from zero to one that was more than six figures in such a small time frame.

Patterson’s success made her feel many things all throughout her petite body, all of which were despicable and unpleasant. Watching the blonde white woman sit in her big luxurious office made Tasha remember that she had been there since day one and was still sitting in the same dull desk. Her salary might have gone up a couple thousand dollars, but the truth was that so did her rent, at least after the new installation of the new water heaters.   

Two years had gone by and she was still the Wellers’ secretary. She couldn’t complain, at least not about them. Tasha loved working close to the Wellers, being up close to their designs and getting to sit in the front row of most of their fashion shows. The parties were her favorite. Socializing with some of the greatest models if not designers in the industry, she felt right at home. There was one problem, though.

She had ideas and designs of her own. Millions, tons of them, all sitting on her desk away from the office. Tasha was yearning to get such designs out on the runway, but she was fixated on the idea that if she showed the Weller’s her designs, they wouldn’t be impressed and that she’d ruin her only chance of them listening to her. Yet, sitting, organizing: designs, appointments, schedules, orders, and events was not doing anything to help her exhibit her art or talent.

The glass walls were another thing that easily got under her, caramel tan skin. She couldn’t find a need for the glass walls. Yes, they were fancy. Besides decorative purposes, she didn’t understand the need for glass walls. What was the use of them if they gave the same purpose as no walls? If they were white cement walls they could be decorated and be used for their intended purpose. They could hang their most successful works or magazine covers, but no, instead there was clear cut glass.

What gave her the most trouble in understanding was Patterson’s blinds and how she always had them wide open. Too many times Tasha has seen the woman fire employees and many times they resulted in them crying in front of the whole eighteenth floor. In Tasha’s eyes, that woman was vicious.

It was past one in the afternoon, and her stomach was growling, but she made a deal with herself. First, she had to finish organizing the contracts by date and then she could hand them off to one of the Wellers. As she finished the last one, a smile glazed over her glossed lips. She was done. There was no more waiting, lunch was hers. Before she could even realize, she was already on her feet, walking towards the Wellers’ office. Technically it was two offices, but since they put a ring on it, they were remodeled to be joint. It was perfect for Kurt and Jane Weller for they were inseparable, tied by the hip almost.

Knocking was a must, so she did. Like always she waited for the voice of Jane or Kurt to welcome her over, but there was none. Unsure if they were there, she commenced trying to open the door, but the handle stopped turning so she gave up. Her second option was to try the other door, but like the other, it was locked. Tasha groaned in frustration. She was tired of them never telling her when they left the office, worst of all they were super sneaky. The contracts needed signing, but the only person left to finish the task was Patterson.

She cursed under her dropped her head, but before heading to the other office, where the woman kept the blinds opened and all, she paused. Did she really have to do this now? Couldn’t she do this after she had a calm relaxing lunch with Reade? But then again, she did make a promise to herself. A deep sigh resonated out of her body.

There was no need to knock, the Vice President motioned her in, before she was even at her door, not to mention that the door was wide opened. It bothered Tasha how proactive Patterson was with every single thing.  She put on her biggest fakest smile and stood a few feet away from Patterson’s magnificently organized desk. As Tasha quickly checks out the sketches that are on it. They seem so elegant, and some color has already been added―baby blue. No doubt that those will be for the winter show. Tasha eventually glances back at Patterson, her smile back on as well.

“Hey, Natasha,” Patterson says with a full grin on her face. “How have you been?”

Tasha didn’t hesitate to answer, “Just great.” Her face felt as if it were to go numb if she smiled any longer. “You?” She really didn’t care, actually, she sincerely did not want to know. Yet, it was work, and one always had to be professional.

“Just wonderful!” She says with endless joy seeping from her preppy voice. Tasha did her best not roll her eyes, she really did, but her emotions were much too strong and did not halt no matter how fast her brain relayed the message.

Tasha laughed, in an attempt to compensate for her unprofessional behavior, but then decided to cut it short. Her laugh sounded more like a cackle rather than humoristic.  So she straightened up her posture and brought that big smile in again. “That’s great.”  Maybe Patterson didn’t spend a lot of time with horrible people, or maybe she thought too much of herself to ever think that Tasha Zapata was full of hypocrisy. Another possibility was that she remained silenced because she was unsure what to do about the situation. Whatever it was, the blonde and artificial blue eyed woman took a sip of her tea and smiled back. Tasha felt like a bitch, but it was the glory of being a jerk to Patterson that won over in the fight of emotions.

Patterson nodded, the silence between them was unusual and inexplicable. Unsure if it was tranquil or tense or if it was just unproductive. She harshly cleared her throat. “Are those for me?” She asked in a much more serious tone―no more small talk and no more awkward staring. Tasha looked down at the big file in her hands. As much as she tried to not get caught up in her thoughts, she did―how did Patterson have such an authoritative tone, given her soft features? “Are they?” Patterson asked again, being slightly irritated by the silence. The woman with the lost mind returned, and almost winced at the harshness of voice that Patterson continued to use.

Tasha was unsure of what do, so she decided to play it safe and cautiously walked over to leave the file on Patterson’s desk. Her rabid words seemed to be caught in her throat. Another quick glance at her sketches and the file was then sitting right beside them. Tasha slowly began to walk backward. No, she didn’t feel intimidated by Patterson, but she just wanted to keep the VP safe… Or at least she tried to convince herself. There was a speckle of fear making its way around her body. Tasha knew she had a temper and the current situation was getting her head heated, and she needed to keep her cool if she wanted to keep her job. At a safe distance between the door and Patterson’s desk, Tasha managed to add, “Jane or Kurt were supposed to sign it, but there’s no knowing when they’ll be back. So I was wondering if you could sign it.”

Patterson’s lips were parted in awe and disbelief. “Well, it’s Mr. and Mrs. Weller. I think it would be nice if you addressed them properly, don’t you?” Tasha smiled and nodded and continued to do so until she was out of Patterson’s office and was at a safe distance from hurting her.

Her blood was boiling, and teeth pushing against each other with great pressure.  Many thoughts ran through Tasha’s head, many of them violent and gory. Lately, everything had become so graphic.  She needed to chill, she needed food. Without thinking it much longer, she grabbed her phone from her desk and made a brusque exit out of the eighteenth floor.

 

…

 

They met at her favorite sushi place. Tasha did her best to bottle in all the fizzy emotions, at least until they got to the table. There, seated in the booth across from Reade, she grabbed the glass of water and took two large sips. Reade did his best to calm her down, but all that provoked was Tasha cussing even louder. A few heads turned, but the quickly dismissed what was happening given the little gravity it had.

She ordered six rolls, Reade ordered three and he questioned whether or not she was really going to finish everything. When her food arrived she shut the shit talking and ate. It was silent at the table and Reade was relieved, not just for Tasha, but also for his sake. It was when they were well into their food that they talked. It was mostly about sports, the Mets, and working out, Yet, somehow when they were deep into talking about chili cheese fries, Tasha managed to bring back the topic of work, but more specifically: Patterson.

“I mean, what a bitch. Like, she looked ready to crucify me! And all I’m trying to do is my job.” Tasha stabbed a piece of sushi and put it in her mouth. Reade was amazed, he had never seen Tasha so hyped up before, at least not about another person. “Pero esa cabrona.” Tasha said in Spanish with her mouth still full of food.

Reade always felt it was a treat to hear his friend cuss and say things in Spanish. It was the only moments in which he sort of knew what she was saying. Other than that he always had to guess what she meant, given his limited amount of Spanish. “Mr. and Mrs. Weller, fuck. Even the Wellers don’t care what I call them, but Patterson does. I mean if they had a problem don’t you think they would have addressed it before? Like I’ve been there longer than she has been there.”

Reade laughed at the comment, it was so absurd to argue with her. “I get it. You’ve been there since day one, but this is the third time you’ve said that. Just eat your sushi, Tash.” He makes sure to give her a reassuring smile. She doesn’t fight him and appeases him by gently rising a piece of sushi with her chopsticks.

 

…

 

The hum of the elevator and the tapping of Tasha’s foot was what stirred up their conversation about annoying things, but Reade soon regretted bringing up such topic because it ultimately led to Tasha listing Patterson as an annoying thing. “Well, I feel really bad for you, because Allie is going to be leaving real soon.”

Tasha with high pride scoffed at his comment. “No, no, no” She shook her head quickly in disbelief, but noticing how Reade didn’t say anything more and was still as a rock. “Edgar, you’re kidding me. Allie said that she wasn’t going to leave until after the fall shows.” Tasha grabbed at her face nervously, her eyes wide. “Allie can’t leave...” Reade grabbed Tasha’s shoulder and knew that there was no way of turning that frown upside down.

.

He had seen Allie’s letter of resignation in Patterson’s box earlier that day. It was early in the morning and he had just finished a design and proudly walked over to Patterson’s box. Yet,  before he could set such design, his eyes skimmed the page previously set there. It was Allie’s resignation. So he stood there awestruck that Allie was going to leave.

It took him a while to accept the fact that one of his closest friends was going to leave. His didn’t mean to, but his eyes continued to linger on the black text. Though he himself didn’t want to believe, it was her final day. He too, along with Allie lamented that she was leaving on such short notice and it was obvious Patterson soon would too.

.

Reade stepped off to the sixteenth floor, there several designers working along with the occasional intern. The eighteenth floor was the busiest floor, mostly because that was where all the action happened unlike the nineteenth. On the twentieth floor, there was a huge runway where most of K J WELLER’s fashion shows were held. Most of the time people went up to the minibar on the roof to celebrate. And every once in awhile, shit would get wild.

The ding to the eighteenth floor scared Tasha, for she was deep into running possible scenarios where she was confronting Allie. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip and her eyes were soon filled with raging anger. She just couldn’t leave behind all those emotions at lunch. Allie was back from her break and was sitting pacifically at her desk with headphones on, sipping on some pink Boba.

Tasha stormed up to her desk, waiting for Allie to finally look at her. Allie jumped when her eyes left the magazine to find an enraged Tasha. Given the distinct semblance Tasha wore, Allie knew what was happening. It was possible that the whole office knew. That’s why it did not surprise her to see such fiery eyes that Tasha wore. “Well, hello there.” The woman bringing up her pink drink to her mouth, tested.

“You’re such a disappointment, Allison.”

Allie knows It’s Tasha who says those words, but in her mind, it’s her father. So she can’t help but stare at Tasha and find the anger and disappointment she once ran away from. A weak hum comes out of Allison, much like the cars of her childhood, but nothing more. It takes a while for her to brush off any of those childhood memories. When she’s done contemplating the bits of hell from her past reflected in Tasha’s eyes, she rips the headphones out from her ears. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Tasha” she said in all seriousness.

But the wardrobe Tasha was wearing was giving her nostalgia of her childhood. Her black and white blazer was giving her both vibes of her mother and father, as well as the issues she had with them. “How dare you call it quits!” almost echoed throughout the floor instantly making heads turn over to Tasha and Allie's direction. Again people had their heads turned toward her. Tasha shood the viewers off and realizes maybe it’s time for her to lower her volume down a few decibels.

“Allie, Allie…” She said in a yelling whisper. “How could you leave me in such a time of need? You know I don’t like Patterson, so why are you doing this to me? Knowing the Weller’s, you know they’ll ask me to fill in for you for a few weeks while they find a replacement. You just want to make work impossible for me, don’t you?” What started in an attempt to whisper, almost ended in a shout.

Allie grabbed her fluffy green pen and began to pet it as she analyzed Tasha’s posture. There was a grin on her face as she looked over the other woman’s stance. She looked tense and at the same time ready to launch herself into attack. It wasn’t that Tasha was short, but rather that Allie didn’t understand how Tasha was able to fit such anger into her body. If anything it was impressive.

Done looking at the bemusement that was her co-worker, Allie finally cleared her throat to speak, and oh did she speak. “Tasha. Hold up. Could you please stop being so selfish. Yes, I’m leaving, but going to be a designer at Tenn Designs. It’s been my dream, I thought you knew that. Why can’t you be happy for me? I would be happy for you. It’s not my fault you haven’t applied anywhere. The anger that fueled her fury was on empty. Her features changed as other more subtle emotions began to take action. “ I mean, if you really wanted to, you could apply and get a position at Marc Jacobs. You’re so talented, ba-”

There was no time for Tasha to bask in the compliment, she meant business. “Well, that’s not in discussion right now, Allison.” She walked backward into her seat. “You said the beginning of the new year, after the fall show at the latest. Not today.” Right when the whole situation seemed to have mellowed down, Tasha yelled, “Fuck.” All while she pointed a gun, made up of her thumb and pointer finger, at her head. As she looked across over at Allie’s direction to see her reaction, her eyes unexpectedly made contact with Patterson. The VP had her arms crossed upon her chest all while she slowly shook her head.

“Language, Ms. Zapata.” Patterson warned as she continued her walk over to the elevator. Neither Tasha nor Allie dared to say a thing (not even Allison who wasn’t going to work there the next day).

Allie and Tasha made faces at each other, watching the classy woman’s back as she waits for the elevator, but they wait until the elevator door shuts close before they say anything. They wait until Patterson is gone to actually say anything, but the conversation doesn’t have the same drive as it did before.

After being lectured my Allison and complimented just as much, Tasha is convinced that there is nothing left to attempt to get Allie to stay. Although it is with great pain that she accepts that her partner in crime must go and fulfill her dreams, because guilting her any further would be selfish. So she wishes her luck and continues with another task. After all, work is the best way to forget.

So the day continued like any other day, even though it was Allie’s last. Both Tasha and Allie took a break around four. They sat at the table in the break room and Tasha offered Allie some of her leftover sushi (Tasha secretly hoped she could decline, but she did not). For the last time, they caught each other up on the latest gossip of the building. Before they head back to work, Tasha in her own way gives Allie her blessing. It’s just what Allie needed, so she wrapped her arms around Tasha, making sure that she didn’t get a glance of the tears that were ready to ooze out.

 

…  


Her head was on her desk, and she was anxiously waiting for the clock to keep turning. There was nothing left for her to do, yet she had to be there in case Kurt or Jane needed something, but they weren’t there. It was just another wasted time, just like her whole life had become, or at least she felt it had become like so. Tasha wasn’t happy, how could she be  happy if she was doing the wrong job. She had gone to school to be a designer, not a secretary, and there she was. A tough groan and then a ding filled her head. It was a new email. With a sort of excitement her head lifted up and she found herself searching for that email.

.

**< Patterson@KJWELLER.com>**

**< NZapata@KJWELLER.com>**

**< Re: Work>**

**< Ms. Natasha Zapata,**

**I would like to speak to you after work in my office. Please be prompt.**

**Patterson, Vice President of KJ WELLER >**

.

She panicked. It was Patterson. Disguised under all that formality, she could sense that whatever they were going to talk about wasn’t going to be pretty.  There was still an hour left of work, and Tasha was already panicking. Everything she had ever said about Patterson was coming back to her and she couldn’t help but to speculate what it was that they were going to be talking about. Then and there a wave of petrifying remorse hit her bones and upset her stomach. Thoughts of just seconds ago, cussing and talking harshly at Allie entered her mind, but also the occasion of that night on the elevator. She took a deep breath and proceeded to bury her face into her hands.

  



	2. FIRED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patterson and Tasha have their meeting, but before any of that there is someone who starts flirting with Tasha and stirs up emotions in the observer(s).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I have been super busy with college apps and letters of rec. I almost didn't submit my UC application, which is my priority. But enough about me. I think because it has been a crappy year for me and a lot of other people, that I've decided to promise 3 more chapters before the end of the year. I can literally feel myself regretting this, but hey Patterson and Zapata are life and what better way to get this fic going than posting a lot. My winter break is the last two weeks of this month, so expect updates during then :)
> 
> If you are reading this, thanks for not giving up on this fic. 
> 
> Also, in my head, the character of Sofia kinda looks like Ximena Navarrete, but you guys can imagine her however you want :)

Exactly a week ago there was an elevator situation, between Tasha and Patterson.

Like every Friday of the week,Tasha was on her way to meet Reade at the bar across the street. It was the bar that they frequented the most, and she was just waiting for time to fly so that she could get out of there. As the clock’s hand hit six, Tasha’s finger pressed the power button on her computer. As the light on the screen gradually ceased its glow, it was transferred onto Tasha’s eyes.

On her way to the elevator, her head turned to see the people who were still there. Yet, like most days, it was empty. Everyone was gone, but Patterson. The blinds in her office were slightly closed but open enough for Tasha to find the VP.  Her phone vibrated in her hand and she quickly glanced at the screen before heading to the elevator. It was Reade. She got a text from Reade saying how Allie and Sarah were there waiting.

<Edgar Reade>:Where are you at? Allie is waiting.

Since it was Friday, Tasha knew there was going to be a crowd, so she decided to be productive. Therefore, she managed to fit a bottle of Patron in her purse with the intention to keep their bar tab for the night relatively low. As the doors opened, Tasha quickly stepped in, and at the same time she pulled out the bottle. She popped the top open and began to sniff the strong rotten scent. She placed the bottle to her lips and took a quick chug. Her face contorted and the taste and her eyes squinted shut.

Tasha lifted the bottle up again, but when her eyes opened, she nearly dropped the bottle in her hand. She felt her throat tighten and began to choke. Her eyes opened wide, and the door was shut closed. Patterson was staring right at her from across. Tasha closed the bottle and dropped it back into her bag. Her cough had weakened, but it was still there. Tasha’s ears waited for Patterson’s harsh words, but there was none.

Patterson obviously wasn’t being herself. The only thing she was capable of was giving Tasha a half smile, other than that she went back to staring at the ground. It was unlike of Patterson to not say anything. She was always very formal at the office. No matter who it was or where she was, she always greeted them. But instead, she cornered herself and did her best not to make a single sound. Her head swung low and she made a shield for her face with her hand.

As Patterson’s fingers served as wipers, Tasha saw the black ink tears that ran. Her chest became tight and she didn’t want to make things worse. So she left as soon as she heard the ding and saw the elevator doors open. There was a sort of guilt that lingered with her until she got to the bar, but once she was there, a few drinks made it go away. She never spoke of the incident either, not because she respected the privacy of Patterson, but rather because she did not want to humanize the VP to her friends. It would make shit talking her more difficult, and she didn’t need that.

 

…

 

The door to Patterson’s office was wide open, just like it normally was. She lingered between the frame of the door, hoping that the VP would notice her presence. Her tongue didn’t do well in situations like that. A large breath of air filled her chest, and it was that slight movement that made Patterson look up.

“Hello,” a smile greeted her. It was far from a gesture that she was expecting to see. She was expecting anything but a smile. Tasha stood there still, unsure what to say. That wasn’t the usual greeting she gave to people who she was about to fire. “So, Ms. Natasha“ She continued to say as she closed her laptop and shoved it into her plushy aquamarine case. “I have these three dresses I have to check on before they’re sent off to the show in Miami. By the way, that’s where the Wellers are at.”

Tasha dumbfoundedly nodded. Before she could say anything in return, she was already following Patterson to the nineteenth floor. It struck her to see as Patterson headed to the stairs instead of the elevator. Unfamiliar with the path, Tasha almost asked where it was that they were going. But as they began to climb the stairs, she knew where they were going and their time in the elevator hit her like a wave. Her mind went blank and those feelings of solid regret hit her just like Patterson’s sharp pointed heels did.

Tasha felt as if she needed to catch her breath, but watching how glamorously Patterson reached the top of the stairs, motivated it her to keep going. On other terms, it also gave her another thing to add to the list of hate for Patterson.

Once they were there, backstage, behind the runway, Patterson got to work immediately. “This looks horrible.” the VP said in frustration as she scolded the dress. An irritated groan later, she was searching for a small kit from her bag. Without wasting another second, which truly mattered to her, she got on her knees to fix what seemed to be the waist of a dress.

Tasha didn’t want to admit it, but she admired anyone who was that conscious about the final product of their work. From a safe distance, she continued to watch. There was so much to see, and she hardly ever went backstage. There was Patterson working on the dress, there were girls rushing in and out of things, there were girls who were just strolling the place with nothing, but a pair of underwear or bra. Everything was chaotic, but it was also so beautiful. It was where she wanted to be. If it wasn’t for Patterson’s presence there, she would have probably gone up to one the models and admire the designs up close, but work first or Patterson first, it seemed.

Noticing how some girls were tilting their heads at her, and wondering what she was doing there, she decided to let herself get consumed by the way that Patterson was sewing. Her fingers moving the needle promptly up and down the fabric, raising the waist of the dress and with it the vertical slash that ran down the model's thigh. If that wasn’t art, she didn’t know what was.

Patterson finished fixing that dress, she moved on to the next one. Not saying a word. Holding the string between her lips. Her magnetic blue eyes stuck to the silver needle between her fingers and colorful fabric. It seemed as though the woman was stuck in a bubble in her own world where no one could interrupt her or grasp her attention. Yet, what Tasha didn’t know, was that Patterson could feel her eyes on her back, burning her tendons and causing an ache to occur. Her stone face made it hard for anyone to see through her, that and also the fact, that her back was to Tasha.

It seemed that Patterson’s efforts were plastered on the dress in hopes to make it look just like the original design on paper. It was quite nice to see the transformation from her thoughts to paper to fabric to a complete dress. She hated when things got lost in translation which is why she did her very best effort to make the waist as it was in her head.

Somehow the model that Patterson was currently working on, did not have the same goal as her. The woman kept moving, adjusting a little curl behind her ear, and making sure to look in Tasha’s direction. That  obviously distracted for the VP who wanted to finish her business and commence the little chat with Tasha. Whenever the model saw Tasha’s eyes land on her, there would be some sort of force between both women. First, it would tug their postures and intensify the glancing that started such force between. Finally, it would cause an almost embarrassing repel.

Too often the cycle repeated that Patterson had to turn back to see what was happening. Realizing what it was, she decided that it was something that she did not want address directly like everything else. So instead she cleared her throat roughly, ensuring that all ears would hear.  “Turn around,” Patterson commanded, as her head pivoted between Tasha and the model who she had her hands on. Patterson proceeded to turn the woman in an almost brusque manner.

Unsure of what was happening, Tasha turned around slowly. She was afraid that Patterson would speak up again. If there was something Tasha hated, it was when people yelled. It was most likely her childhood that caused her to shake violently whenever people spoke beyond their inside voice.

“Not you.” The model spoke with childish overtones.

Tasha turned back around and saw Patterson and the model looking right at her. She could have sworn that there was a small smile starting to form on Patterson’s lips that were tightly clenched around the needle. The model laughed and said: “That’s so cute, by the way. Kinda like you.” Tasha's physical reaction was almost instantaneous. Her cheeks visibly changed colors despite the pigment of her skin.

Before Tasha could say anything in response to the comment, Patterson grabbed the model from the hips, once again, and turned her around. There was no way she was going to say anything with a needle between her lips. She did her best to pretend to fix something before she got up from her knees and walked away. She circled the model, needle between her fingertips, and finally spoke after the mass silence. “Hmm. I think it’s done.”

The model turned around and again their gazes met. Patterson in the middle of the whole thing. Tasha bit her lip as she tried not to smile so evidently. It was something hard for Tasha to do, given that she had never been placed in such a situation before. The whole thing could have been compared to her getting hit on by Rodrigo Luna her junior year in high school the day of the school play, all in front of her mother. Also, what added unfamiliarity to the situation was that Tasha was not used to women showing interest in her, at all. Though at the time she did feel immensely flattered, she couldn’t help but realize that the timing was horrifically off. Not only was it at work, which she swore to be sacred, but it was in front of Patterson, the Vice President of KJ WELLER.

“I’ve never seen you here.” The woman said.

Tasha opened her mouth, but nada. Watching the woman struggle to say anything, Patterson took advantage and took charge of the conversation. “Ms. Sofia… uh,” Patterson had forgotten her first name, but decided that wasn’t the point, “I need to talk to Ms. Natasha Zapata. So if you could do us a favor, could you get out of the dress at top speed without ruining it.”

Not only was Tasha shocked at Patterson’s words, she was embarrassed. She felt partially at fault for fueling whatever unproductivity was going on, due to her curious eyes. Still, she did not look away as Sofia took off the dress and was left in just a bra and panties. “Please, be more careful, next time. I don’t want anything happening to the dresses before they get to Miami.” Sofia rolled her eyes in response.

Yet, before she left Tasha and Patterson to accompany each other, she made sure to let Tasha know one thing for sure. The model walked up to her, examined her from head to toe, without a care of what Patterson would say. She smiled and spoke. “You, know,” She continued as Tasha’s wide eyes witnessed in disbelief. “I hope I see you more around here, possibly in a dress. You’re a little short, but you make that up with that face of yours.”

 _Well, Fuck._ Tasha thought. “I’m not a model,” Tasha said after that loud gulp. Sofia shrugged in disappointment and walked away.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to take so long.” Patterson began to pack her small little kit into her bag. “Also, I apologize for the model’s behavior. I’m not the one who hired her, but if she bothers you again, just let me know.” Patterson carried such a straight face, that it made almost everything that she had just said seem normal. “Gosh it’s so late.”

“It’s fine, I don’t think that’ll be a problem” Tasha pulls out her  phone, “It’s just six-forty, Unless you have somewhere to be, I understand if you’d like to cancel.”

Patterson shook her head, “I can’t cancel, this has to be done today. I just feel so bad, keeping you late on a Friday.” The tone shift in Patterson’s voice was evidential, that Tasha even smiled nodding. “But it’s mostly because I have bad news.” She adds at the end. Every nerve in Tasha’s body failed her, and she tensed up. She was already preparing for the worst, but her physiological response was untrainable. Her dark chocolate brown eyes implored an answer to be given to her. She hated cliffhangers, but at the moment, she hated Patterson even more.

For the first time, it seemed, Patterson stuttered.

“I’m fired, huh?” It wasn't Patterson’s office, but she knew what those blue-green-gene-lottery eyes meant when they pretended to be tranquil. If they had been in Patterson's office, she would have stormed off, fled and never looked back, but the door was far, and Patterson was on her feet. Miraculously somehow, Tasha didn’t lose her cool. “Am I?” She repeated, wondering if then she would get an answer. It was Tasha’s glaring that made Patterson uncomfortable “Just tell me already.” She insisted.

“Yes.” She let go of in a breath. A bit of relief and guilt whirling around her consciousness.  “You did nothing wrong, your work is perfect. The Weller’s love having you here.” There was deception weaved into her furrowed eyebrows. “Trust me, it’s not you. They’re just trying to give other people a chance. You have so much experience that they’re sure you will find another place. They just want to see other people grow. You know how they are about the whole moving up and growing thing.”

She sighed loud and clear, enough to obtain a reaction from Tasha. Disappointment dimmed the angry fire that erupted in her dark eyes. “You’re right,” Tasha said while moving her fingers and hands in hope that it would all be over soon. She thought that if Patterson would dismiss her already, be might have enough time to catch up to Sofia.  Tasha started playing even more with her fingers and hands, anxious to leave the scene. Maybe even catch up to the model who left. Tasha noticed the manner in which Patterson’s lips did not stay still, as if they had something else to say. Out of habit, Tasha licked her lips, “Anything else?” She managed to say with a serene semblance.

Patterson didn’t want to seem too excited, but it was almost hard not to notice that extra glow when she said: “Well…” Tasha looked up at her with curiosity, “My secretary, Ms. Allison Knight, whom with you are familiar with, had her last day, today. I unlike the Weller’s say no to terminating much-needed skills like yours.”

“Wh- what are you trying to say then?” Her mouth was opened wide, and her stomach felt tight with anxiety, unlike the tightness she felt before.

Patterson placed her hand on Tasha’s arm, making her even tenser. “Look, Ms. Natasha Zapata, you’re a great secretary and it would pain me to see you go all of a sudden. Also, who better to replace Ms. Knight than you? You’ve been here, at KJ WELLER, since before me.” Patterson took her hand off of Tasha, watching as the woman’s eyes seemed to either contemplate or criticize where she had been touched. “What do you say, Ms. Zapata, do you want to continue to work at KJ WELLER?”

Tasha glanced back to see if the model was anywhere to be seen. She took a deep breath, remembering her priorities. “Well of course I do.” Of course, she didn’t want to work with Patterson, but there was rent to pay and other expenses she felt so comfortable with. Leaving a job like that, meant not knowing when she would find another.

“Good.” Patterson said with a smile, “Then come to my office Monday morning” Tasha nodded and slowly started to back away. “Ohh, and Ms. Zapata it’s nice to see you stay.” An effortless smile was her only response, and that was all Patterson needed to realize that she messed up. It was so unlike her, but all she saw was mistakes up ahead.

 

…

 

“Shot! Shot! Shot, shot, shot!” Sarah chanted as she swung side to side with another shot of tequila, all while everyone’s eyes were on Allie. Tasha rolled her eyes as she watched Allie take another drink. She had such a shitty day at work, all thanks to Patterson. If she had talked to her earlier, then she wouldn’t have been the last one at the bar and assigned to be the "designated driver" or at least the one who did not get blindingly drunk. Yet, knowing her self-control she knew not to drink. There was no way for her to switch with anyone there, they were all on their path to being severely drunk.

Allie seemed to be having fun, and it was nice to finally see Sarah after her trip Oregon. Reade kept asking Tasha why she was late and didn’t leave her alone until she dropped the truth. There was no reason to keep it. She knew that on Monday it would be no secret, but a short-lived one. Also, there was no way that they would care or remember given the drinks that they had.

After telling the truth, she continued to sip bubbly soda from a red straw, all, while the rest of continued to drink from the bottle, managed to sneak in. She played with the red straw twirling it around in her glass and watched as it spun. She couldn’t look at the television, her favorite team was losing and the people there were constantly bumping into her. It all added to her irritation.

She felt someone grip onto her shoulder, but instead of latching out, she turned slowly ready to give whoever was crossing the line a piece of her mind. She hated when people, especially men relied on touching to get her attention. Yet, as she saw the figure in front of her, she froze in awestruck.

Noticing that she was not saying anything, Sofia cleared her throat. There was a devilish smile on her lips, and those were the very lips she placed near Tasha’s ear. “Most of the woman I hang out with like to go with something stronger than bubbles.” It tickled her to her core and her only response was to grip onto the table.

“I’m not most girls,” Tasha said as she turned herself on the edge of her seat so that she could face Sofia a little better.

“Never said you were, darling.” There was an exchange of smiles. “Now, tell me-”

Before Sofia could say anything else, Allie slammed her hand on the table. A few necks snapped back and when all eyes were on Allie, “Tasha!” She smiled at her friend next to her. “Come with me to the bathroom?” Tasha rolled her eyes and apologized to Sofia, she then quickly got up from her spot, ready to hold Allie’s hand if needed. As they walked to the bathroom and came across a mirror along the way, Tasha saw that Sofia was not far behind. Allie saw it too, and she placed her arm around Tasha’s waist. It was evident that Tasha noticed that, which is why she looked back at Sofia, who only raised a brow.

Tasha opened the stall for Allie and held it closed also. Looking at Sofia who was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, Tasha in an embarrassed whisper said,  “Sorry, I’m kind in charge of everyone for the night.” The Sofia nodded with a playful smile and progressed taking a few steps closer. Her staring was intense and Tasha couldn’t remember the last time that someone looked at her like that. Out of panic, she said the first thing that came to her head. “I think you’re cute too, by the way.” Tasha was a little rusty on flirting but the woman in front of her didn’t seem to mind, but rather enjoy what was happening between the two. “Why did you come here?”

“I followed you,” Sofia said, but then added. “I’m kidding. I was already here, a little sad you didn’t notice me, given those analytical eyes of yours.”

Before Tasha could find anything to say, there was slamming and knocking that came from the very door Tasha was holding. “Tasha! How does this open?” Tasha opened the door and felt as Allie held onto her waist. It was obvious that Sofia didn’t like that playful behavior the other drunk woman exposed herself with. “Tasha.” Allie laughed into her shoulder. “I need to tell you something.” Allie’s face was so close and her breath reeked of El Patron, the good one. “It’s kind of important.” Tasha turned slightly expecting to get some news.

Noticing a pause and an exchange of glances, Tasha smiled awkwardly at everyone. It was then that Allie pressed her lips near Tasha’s cheek and part of Tasha’s lip. “What are you doing?” She said nervously. All Allie did was continue to kiss her and grab Tasha’s hips even more. When Tasha finally decided to give in, she felt Allie’s hand push her off. “She’s gone now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't my strongest chapter and it was kinda hard to write. BUT I HOPE YOU CAN HANG IN THERE, BC IT WILL GET BETTER (or at least I think it will). 
> 
> Comment, because it's a joy to see what you all have to say. 
> 
> Also, I'm going to let you choose, do you guys want more Allie or more Sofia (original character) ????


	3. Maybe It's Not That Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha works by Patterson's side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you, that I would post another.

Monday morning came, and it was just like any other Monday, except that Tasha was seated in Allie’s old spot-- the desk right across the pond. Her seat wasn’t empty as she expected it to be, two kind faces eagerly sat at her desk and constantly asking if they were doing things right. Tasha found that there was a strange comfort in starting again, where she had left, but that comfort was somehow also haunting. It was then that she began to start questioning her ability and talent. She was nearing thirty, but to her, that seemed like a step too close to forty, but what really bother her the most was that it had already been six years since she applied for her first internship.  

  
The first part of her day was not as bad as she thought it would be. All she did was organize a few things for Patterson, nothing she hadn’t done for the Weller;s. Yes, Patterson preferred that all her files be organized alphabetically by last name, and not first like the Weller’s did. Tasha assumed it was because Patterson, unlike the Weller’s constantly used last names when referring to people. So there were little bumps here and there, but other than that, she was doing a great job of being the secretary to the person she despised the most. Or at least, that’s what Tasha told herself to get on with the day. Yet, she was glad that her enemy gave her the option to stay, for she would have had to move in with her cousin from Staten Island.

  
For lunch, Reade and Tasha had a lot of silence. There was not much for them to talk about since he already knew the news. He even saw her once when he delivered a sketch to Patterson. When he tried talking to her about it, all she would do was lift her shoulders up and shrug with an anguished expression. It was in the depth of the uncomfortable silence that Tasha thought about mentioning the kiss she exchanged with Allison Knight, but most of all her encounter(s) with Sofia. It was until they were heading back to KJ WELLER, that Tasha brought up how impressed she was that neither Patterson or her were dead yet.  
It was later that day, just a few minutes before it was time for we to quit. That’s when she heard her name begin to resonate. “Ms. Zapata,” She called out from her office.  
“Ohh fucking dear,” Tasha said as she put down her phone and stood. It was with caution that she got up and made her way towards Patterson’s office. As she entered, she saw Patterson only a feet away. Again the woman had her purse and laptop at her hands.

  
“Get your stuff, Tasha. We’re heading to the nineteenth floor.

  
As they were stepping up the stairs, Tasha maintained herself at a close distance to Patterson, she feared that if she didn’t, that she would seem weak. Yet, there was something else motivating her. Last Friday that she went up there, she was splendidly surprised by what she saw, and it seemed her feet were excited for that as well.

  
Patterson dumped her things onto on of the white benches and encouraged Tasha to do the same, but Tasha held onto the strap of her purse, that went across her chest. It wasn’t because Tasha feared it would be stolen or misplaced, but because holding onto the strap gave her a sense of security.

  
Again she watched Patteson, it was such a delight, one that she promised herself not to ever talk to Reade about. Although she was planning to tell him about having to stay late and blame Patterson for it because after all, it was close to the bare truth. Yet, part of her didn’t understand why she was even there, she didn’t do anything, but stand and watch, and if she was there to give Patterson company, she was doing a horrible job.

Tasha watched Patterson perform with her fingers. Her thumb and index finger securely gripping onto the needle which mimicked the movements of a machine--robotic and meticulous. While Patterson’s finger worked rather quickly, between her lips she held onto the string that the dress consumed ever quickly. Tasha gulped. She didn’t understand how it was possible for anyone to work like that, she wanted to work like that. Tasha wanted her fingers to be bruised and lips sore from being on her knees like that. It was thrilling to watch Patterson, but the thrill quickly dissipated, Tasha knew she was nowhere near from being a designer.

  
In hopes to stop looking at Patterson and her prominent glutes. Tasha turned her head in favor of any other woman who walked in or out of the dressing room. Many new faces entered and exited, but none of them were Sofia’s which was what was most disappointing, not that she would ever want to confront her about Friday night. Instead, she smiled awkwardly at anyone who made eye contact with her.

  
Her eyes followed a tall brunette who got too close to Patteson. Her attention again made it’s way back to Patterson. The woman cupped the VP’s ear and began to whisper something, Patterson nodded and then looked back at Tasha. That’s when Tasha felt all of her blood go down to her feet, fuck. Patterson dismissed the woman and gestured Tasha forward, “Tasha, come here.”

  
Tasha’s eyes were all buggy and scared, she held on tight to the strap. “Yes?”

  
“Okay, so one of the girls didn’t show up, will you put the dress on?” Tasha didn’t say anything. “Please.” Patterson attempted to smile in desperation. She had never heard Patterson beg, but it seemed like that was the closest she would ever do such act. Tasha slowly nodded, a bit relieved that she had not gotten in trouble for excessive staring or because one of the models had complained.

  
Led by the tall brunette, she changed into a long red flowy dress with various gemstones all over. Red wasn’t her ‘go to’ color, but it was a nice dress nonetheless. It had a lot of cleavage, though. Most of it was near her chest and abdominal region. Once alone, Tasha took her clothes off, her black bra and pale orange panties being the exception. She quickly put it on, not wanting to risk Patterson seeing her like so. Her hand skimmed her bareback a couple of times searching for a zipper, but as she turned around to see, she realized there was no zipper.

  
Tasha was hesitant to go where Patterson was. Her eyes looked around to see how many persons were left, but there were only a couple, such a drastic contrast to all the bodies she saw flowing in and out once they got there. She put her purse and clothes on the bench next to Patterson’s belongings. It was then that she saw the VP’s phone glow up with a few messages from her father.

  
<Dad>: You don’t need to be mean.

  
<Dad>: I’ll see you for dinner on Wednesday.

  
<Dad>: Please, don’t leave me waiting. My time is precious too.

  
Tasha felt shitty for reading the messages, but somehow they were assuring that not everything about Patterson was perfect. Slowly she made her way back to Patterson. She waited for Patterson to say something, anything, but there was nothing, but silence. Her focus was still all over the white tight dress. Tasha looked around, the place was empty, but for the girl Patterson was working on.

  
“Great, I thought you might have fled.” Patterson got up from her knees, and thus began the inspection. Her hands weren’t timid, not that she expected them to be, they probably had held a thousand other people before. That, and it was work, she didn’t her hands to be all tender and loving, especially not Patterson’s hands. “I’m a little surprised the dress fits this good.” Her hands tugged at Tasha’s waist and Patterson found comfort in her hips, so much, that for a second almost forgot what she was doing. “Well, I mean except for the length.” Her fingers then began to trace the gemstones starting with Tasha’s shoulders up until her back. The journey wasn’t smooth, every once in awhile Patterson found herself sighing and having to sew the gem into its intended place or fix it if it had gotten undone.

  
Her fingers continued to palpate for any misplaced gemstones, as Patterson’s fingers began to skim Tasha’s buttocks, the woman began to sway in an uncomfortable way. “Sorry,” Patterson said trying to make her still, her hands tight around her waist. “Forgot you’re new at this.”

  
“Did Allie have to do this? ‘Cause I don’t remember Allie ever telling me about this sort of stuff.”

  
“No, she didn’t. She didn’t do this because she didn’t want to.”

  
“Then why…” Tasha paused. She didn’t know if she wanted to know Patterson’s response. After all, she managed to convince herself that she didn’t care.

  
Patterson waited an adequate amount of time, “Why what?

  
“Why am I doing this then?”

  
Patterson stood up and went to go face Tasha, “Well, for starters,” she held the needle tight between her fingers, “One of the models quit on short notice. None of the models wanted to stay since they fly to LA in the morning. I asked you to, and you agreed.” Tasha could see where Patterson was going to go with the whole conversation, just by the way that she eyed the excess part of the dress. “You think I have you in that dress for my pleasure? Please, Ms. Zapata, If I could I would have myself in there, but that wouldn’t be effective, or would it? You’re too short, and at least I wouldn’t drag the dress around.”

  
“Okay.” Tasha accepted her response, having had enough with what she boasted and wanting to hear no more. “I get it.” There was no sentiment in her words.

  
Patterson assented and did her best to avoid Tasha’s eyes where her sentiment was hidden. The VP wrinkled her nose and got back to fixing the dress. She did her best to go back into her “working zone”, but as hard as she tried to forget what had just happened between them, the more shitty she began to feel. Patterson finished with the back end and instead of making Tasha turn around, she moved around. The hair she once made Tasha push forward was placed back by Patterson’s almost steady hands. Tasha did her best not to stare directly at Patterson, but only forward, even if those arctic blue eyes were looking right at her.

  
But Patterson’s touch changed, it wasn’t the same. It was light and gentle as if she was trying not to hurt Tasha more than she already had. Patterson hoped that there was no loose gemstones around her breast, and to her luck, there wasn’t. Nonetheless, it was still a challenge grazing Tasha’s breasts. Her knees hit the floor once she started working on the upper quadrant of Tasha’s abdomen. “Ms. Zapata,” Patterson felt slip through her lips, “uhh… Just know that you will be getting paid overtime for this and that you don’t have to do this ever again if you don’t want to. I don’t want to start on the wrong foot, with you. I really hope that our time together can run as smoothly as possible.” Patterson glanced up to see why Tasha was being so quiet, but before she could examine her demeanor she was taken again by those dark-dark eyes. Patterson gulped hard and waited for Tasha’s lips to move.

  
“Me too. But, don’t call me Ms. Zapata.” Tasha indicated.

  
“Ms. Natasha-” Patterson began to say.

  
Tasha violently shook her head, “Just Tasha. I kinda have the name Natasha reserved for my work.”

  
“What type of work?” Patterson asked out of interest.

  
Tasha wasn’t sure if to tell her or not, but she knew she had to give an answer, “My designs.”

  
Hearing Tasha say that was a surprise, “You design?” Patterson questioned.

  
Her cheeks turned a bright warm color just like the other day, she didn’t know why it was happening. All they were talking about was work related, they were just talking about a topic near and dear to Tasha’s heart. She was exposing herself to Patterson more than she intended to. Tasha could have taken off the dress and all other undergarments and probably wouldn’t have blushed. “Yeah.”

  
Patterson refocuses her attention back onto the dress, remembering her priorities. “Well, that’s great, maybe we could meet outside of work and you could show me a couple designs. You know we’re always looking for new talent.”

  
“Ye- Yeah, of course.”

  
“Good.” Patterson verified. “Also, I’m done.” Patterson took a few steps back admiring the final product of the dress. “Will you turn around?” Tasha slowly turned and Patterson’s teeth sunk into her inferior lip as she gazed at the dress, her eyes lingered at certain sports--the cleavage, the front, and back. “It looks great.” Patterson walked over to where her belongings were at, she then grabbed her phone and waited for Tasha's reaction. There was an eye-roll and a barely detectable scoff. “You can change now, just make sure not to… hurt the dress.” Her voice was weak, and Tasha could have sworn that Patterson had no idea what was happening.

  
Patterson took a seat and started replying. Tasha walked over, “Everything okay?” She picked up her clothes from the bench.

  
“Long day,” Patterson responded with her eyes glued to her screen. Tasha looked around, but all she saw was mirrors. She wasn’t sure what to do next, and before she could even think about asking, Patterson was already talking. “It’s just me, and don’t worry I don’t plan on looking.” Tasha laughed.

  
Tasha began to take off the dress, her arm slipped out and then the other. On the mirror she was watching herself, making sure she was being gentle, but also her eyes were checking on Patterson. The dress slowly made its way to the ground and Tasha stepped out carefully. She grabbed the dress and before she could place it on the seat next to Patterson, she checked the mirror again. That was when she saw them, they managed to pop out easily. They were the only thing that was blue and they were looking right at her. Part of her wanted to call her out, but instead she pressed her lips against each other, turned and placed the dress next to her clothes. She picked up her clothes and proceeded to put them on rather quickly. That time she didn’t look at the mirror, she didn’t want to know.

  
Tasha turned around, “Well, I guess that means we can go now, right?”

  
“Yeah… “

  
Tasha smiled, “See you tomorrow, unless… are you going home?”

  
Patterson grabbed her things from the bench, “Yeah, why?” That’s when Tasha remembered the day she saw her crying the elevator, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the possible correlation between Patterson’s mood and the messages from her father. She thought of maybe be accompanying her out, but then again, she didn’t want to be further involved with Patterson.

  
“You work a lot.” Was all her brain allowed her to say.

  
Patterson laughed. “Well, all I have to do is put this dress with the others and then I can go home.”

  
Tasha nodded. “Goodnight, then.”

  
It was when she was inside the elevator that regret began to build up inside of her. She reminded herself that she hated Patterson and pretended to believe it. Tasha opened her bag and out came the tiniest little bottle of Don Julio. She took the cap off and chugged what remained down. She didn’t have time for those types of feelings.

  
…  
Her goal was never to get drunk, all she wanted to do was drink until she fell asleep, and it was along the way, that she realized that it wasn’t possible without the whole “drunk” part. Between her thighs she had a bottle of Corralejo and even though she had only drunk less than a third of it, her head was buzzing. So on her way to her bedroom she made sure to hold on to the wall and the door frame, she didn’t want to risk any bruises, but most importantly any questions.

  
Tasha sunk her head into her pillow and screamed. Her throat was burning and stomach groaning. She felt even shittier than on the elevator. It wasn’t about Patterson, anymore. It was about her and everything she had been pushing aside for years, everything she had been drinking about recently. It was her own scent of the liqueur that made her freeze. She felt as if she was becoming her father, with a breath of poison, she feared that the only good left inside of her would be ruined too. She remembered seeing her father ruin their lives with endless bottles in and out of the house, as there were endless faces that accompanied him. Yet there she was too, with a collection of bottles of her own. She clawed her fingers into the mattress and dragged her fingers along, just as she did with the tears.

She didn’t want that life anymore, but she didn’t want to put down the bottle either.

  
...

  
Patterson’s blinds remain open, not for previous reasons: to keep an eye on the entire floor and manage productivity, but so that she could occasionally glance at Tasha and admire her from afar. At first, she told herself that it was because she wanted to make sure no one, especially Tasha was off task since the busy season was approaching. All she really got from that was recognizing that Tasha’s style was impeccable as was her work.

  
Another thing that Patterson began to notice about Tasha, not because she could see her from her office, but because every time Patterson said anything that bothered the woman, Tasha would begin to roll her eyes and ended up biting down on her lip. Patterson didn’t mind it, though, she loved watching the various expressions throughout the day. Allie was fine, but Tasha was just more engaging and she really appreciated that. It was often that Patterson contemplated finding a viable excuse to spend extra time with her secretary.

  
Tasha, on the other hand, was not necessarily enjoying her time as the VP’s secretary. Every morning, she had to check and cup her chest to ensure that she was wearing a bra. Her fear was that she would forget or not wear one, and Patterson would ask her to put on a dress. At least her fear wasn’t killing Patterson anymore.

  
So every morning Tasha would think of Patterson as she got ready for work, not just when putting on her bra, but when putting on anything in general. Ever since the day Patterson complimented her on her outfit, it then became her daily challenge to impress her. On some days she won and others she didn’t. Tasha would think of Patterson also when taking off her clothes; It was something she never expected to do--strip while thinking about the person she called her enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if in the future chapters you prefer Sofia or Allie. 
> 
> Also, let me know what you think!


	4. Case of the Missing Portfolio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patterson and Tasha have dinner so that Tasha can share her designs with the VP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a year since i last updated. and i'm really sorry about that. i could tell u why i haven't updated, but i'll spare ya an explanation. i'll try to update again soon, hopefully it won't take this long. 
> 
> this chapter is rated m, btw. it's the last part, so welcome to skip. 
> 
> i'm really happy by how big this fandom has gotten though.

A couple of weeks later.

After various nights of postponing dinner due to other events or meeting or staying late to finish work, Patterson shows up to Tasha’s desk to ensure her that the night has come. Tasha at first doesn’t understand what Patterson is referring to. It takes a long explanation before Patterson reminds her that the dinner that they postponed so many times was finally going to happen. Tasha tries not to make a big deal about it, but inside she’s dying of excitement. 

Patterson was the VP and showing her designs to Patterson was a big step in ascending in fashion. As the VP she had so many connections, the connections Tasha envied most of all. Dinner with Patterson was not about the small talk, it was about leaving her in awe of her portfolio. Which is why she took the time to make a portfolio with only the work she was proud of. If she was going to show Patterson her designs, she was going to make sure that she put her to shame. 

…

Tasha grabs her portfolio from out of the drawer from down below. She skims through it making sure that everything is in its place. After checking that everything is indeed in order she leaves it on her desk. Her phone rings and it’s a text from Reade asking her where she wants to have lunch at. She tells him that they can choose on their way out, she just wants to leave. So she hurries and stops on the 16th floor. 

“Hey, designer dude, you ready for the best part of the day?” Tasha asked with her eyebrows up high and a smile on her face.

Reade drops his pencil, “Yes, obviously. Let’s go.” He fixes his tie and winks at Tasha as he does so. “Sarah might not be here, but you never know who you’ll see outside in the big world.”

“Please, Reade. Stop lying to yourself, you know the only reason you dress up is to impress one person in the building.”

“Who do you suppose that is?”

Tasha cleared her throat and pointed to one of the K J WELLER logos. “Well, the Weller’s.” She watched in awe how Reade acted shocked. “C’mon, you know it’s true. You dress up just in case you bump into Kurt. Don’t want to look unclassy, right?”

He doesn’t admit that Tasha is right, he just presses the elevator button and they continue on their way to lunch. They end up going to a chain steakhouse. Tasha is impressed by the size of the steak Reade orders. She orders a sample platter with chicken, shrimp and a tiny piece of steak. Reade makes fun of the size of her steak and the size of her plate. He makes fun of her, teasing if she will ever get full. 

“So what’re you going to do after work? You want me to call Allie up? We can get together at the bar.” He notices that Tasha looks down at her plate, trying to hide in her food. “You okay?”

She chews her food and swallows, “Yeah, I mean I’m eating.” She stabs at a little shrimp. “I actually have plans already for tonight. Also, I’m sure Allie won’t come all the way back to New York for a night of drinks.” The real reason she didn’t want Reade calling Allie was due to what happened last time they were out.

He registers the change in her mood and decides to change the topic. “You haven’t told me much about Patterson, how’s that going?”

“Well since you asked.” Tasha goes on and on off into tangents about how Patterson is much more difficult to address and how she has to put more effort into her work to adapt to the VP’s preferences, but other than that it isn’t much different from working with the Weller’s. After thinking about it for a while she mentions how she has had to stay after work to accompany Patterson while she checks the on the pieces either being shipped into mass production or the upcoming shows. Tasha then makes sure to add how because of the overtime she is always getting home late or has to get back in a Lyft or a cab.

…

Her portfolio was missing, it was gone. It wasn’t on her desk and it wasn’t in the drawer where she kept her things. Looking around everywhere caused sweat droplets to form at the top of her forehead. She grabbed a napkin to dab her face and continued to search for the portfolio. Running her fingers along the edge of her desk she turned to her old desk and found that the Wellers’ secretaries were nowhere to be seen. 

She looked around the entire eighteenth floor to check if someone had grabbed it by mistake, but she found nothing. Of course, that would happen to her. No matter what it was, and no matter how well she did to prepare for things, her efforts always got screwed over. Going around once wasn’t enough, she had to check again, even if people stared.

Having found nothing she rushes to the bathroom, locking herself in a stall. She brings the toilet seat down and sits in misery. It isn’t long until she’s trying to hold back those tears that threaten to break through. She rests her face on her palms and bangs her fist on the wall, not without checking if there was someone else there. She didn’t want to cause a scene.

She was going to impress Patterson maybe even put her to shame with her portfolio, but now she had nothing to impress her with. There was no reason for her to show up to the dinner. Not only that, but someone could easily copy her works and call it their own. Tasha let go of a deep sigh before stepping out of the stall. 

…

Using the excuse that it would be rude and beyond unprofessional to leave Patterson waiting for her, she left her desk, but not without looking around again to see if her portfolio somehow showed up. But it didn’t so she showed up empty handed at the dinner. Tasha took a seat, wondering how long Patterson had been waiting there. The waiter gave her a menu to look at while she returned with their drinks. “You ordered drinks?” She asked Patterson who nonchalantly was reading the options.

“Yeah.” She looked up to check out the woman who was wearing a pink salmon dress. It was tighter than the usual clothes she wore to the office. The dress gripped perfectly onto her curves and Patterson feared that her eyes were lingering on too long. “I figured you would have asked for something without alcohol.” Patterson noticed that Tasha slid her hands down her dress holding onto it before she slid into the booth. “I mean,” Patterson didn’t want to make anything awkward. “You are alright with this being casual, right?”

“Ohh, sure,” Tasha answered, little half smile included. Her hands her so sweaty, and Patterson seemed so casual. “There’s actually something you should know, I left the portfolio at…” Tasha felt Patterson’s eyes travel to meet hers, giving her and showing her all the attention she had. “I don’t know where I left it.” Tasha's voice sounded strained and her hands swiped across her forehead and then grabbed at her temples.

The sight was unexpected, it came as surprise to Patterson, who immediately felt bad for Tasha. Losing something like that was a serious thing, her ideas could be stolen a lot of things could go wrong. “I’ll ask around the office, please just try not worry that much about it.” Patterson took her phone out and quickly started typing. 

“I know, it’s just that-“ Tasha explains through her teeth. Patterson watches as Tasha does her best to calm herself down. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what happened to it.” Her vocals seem at peace, unlike her countenance.

Patterson reaches for Tasha’s hand, squeezing it softly, hoping that it could put her at peace, “Don’t apologize, don’t worry.” Patterson lets go of Tasha’s hand, her fingers dragging off the skin of the woman with who was trying her best to keep it together. “I actually, just sent an email regarding your portfolio.” 

Tasha nodded, “Thank you,” she breathed. She tried to move her hair out of her face, her lips force a smile. Her mind is quickly intruded by the thought that Patterson is not as bad as she painted her to be. Part of her is disappointed and upset and she quickly begins to question how she managed to develop such tremendous hate for her. Patterson was making it difficult to be justified in having such tormented feelings. 

The space between them is very minimal, both notice it but neither do anything about it.   
The waiter sets two glasses and the bottle of wine between them. He offers to pour, but Patterson ensures him that she can do it herself. She isn’t rude about it, but rather anxious to get some of the dark red velvet liquid into her mouth. Tasha watches as Patterson pours both of them their glasses. Tasha takes small sips, but Patterson shows no moderation. “You thirsty?” Tasha teases, not even she, who considers herself a fan of the drink dared to consume that much.

“Yes, actually. I haven’t had a drink in almost a week.” She takes another sip, “I’m not an alcoholic, I just like to have something to look forward to besides the weekend.”

“Don’t worry, I get you.” Tasha encourages Patterson. It doesn’t take that much longer for her to remember the bad habits she has formed with alcohol. So she lifts up her glass and takes a guilty sip. 

They continue to drink the wine until their food arrives. It’s then that they decide to change things up a bit and they each order something different. Tasha knows that if she drinks anything else with alcohol she would walk out of there drunk. So she takes hold of the rails and gets asks for some sort of lemonade. Patterson on the other orders a bourbon on the rocks, not really thinking about all that she has consumed. 

When it seemed like they were done, both skipping out on dessert, Tasha struck out her credit card on the table, glancing at Patterson so that she would understand. Patterson shakes her head, “I invited, so I pay.”

Tasha violently shook her head, “I didn’t deliver. I didn’t show you my portfolio.” 

She scoffed, “Ohh well, they already have my card, so it doesn’t even matter.”   
…

Patterson stops a cab and grabs Tasha’s hand so that she gets in with her, even if it means almost dragging her into the cab. Patterson tells the driver her street and tells Tasha that she doesn’t live too far away. Tasha notices that all those drinks have finally made an effect on Patterson, who seems to laugh for no reason. She also becomes more touchy, her hand settled on Tasha’s thigh. Patterson doesn’t think much of it, but the other woman does, her gaze constantly drifting down. What makes it even more strange is that she doesn’t mind her touch, but Tasha does her best to quickly remind herself that Patterson is drunk. 

“So we’re going to have dinner soon, again, right?” Patterson asks leaning in a and tightening her fingers on Tasha’s thigh. Patterson felt at the seatbelt began to tighten, so she laid back and reached for Tasha’s hand before letting her head fall on the seat. “What you think?” She turns to Tasha.

“Yes, of course, I’ll just make sure to bring my portfolio.” When she said that Patterson squeezed her hand and rested her head on the back of the seat. Patterson’s nose was pointing at the roof and Tasha didn’t hesitate to check her out. Her frame, her clothes, but especially her legs. Tasha bites her bottom lip and that’s when she feels the VP’s grip tighten. 

Patterson turns her head and warmly smiles at Tasha who was still biting her lip. Tasha bit harder, trying not to smile. “What’s wrong?” Patterson mumbles.

Tasha let’s go of Patterson’s hand, managing to let a nervous laugh, “Noo. Nothing. It’s just I think this is your stop.”

Patterson laughs. “Ohh, shit.” She takes her seatbelt off and starts climbing over Tasha. Their bodies touch: Patterson’s thigh is between Tasha’s and it almost seems like she’s about to fall. Tasha’s hands grab at Patterson’s hip and shoulder, trying to keep her balanced. “Ahh, I’m sorry.” Patteson pushed the door open with one hand, and with the other, she grabs onto Tasha’s thigh dragging her hand off as she exits the cab. Tasha tells the drive where to next, and her head turns as she watches Patterson get into her building. 

…

Closing the door to her bedroom door in a loud slam she throws her body onto the bed, her face deep into a pillow. Her groans were suffocated by the fluffy pillow, but it did not relieve the brew of feelings running through her. Somehow she still wanted Patterson, her body was craving her, and her ego was hating every moment of it. Her plans were to screw Patterson over and possibly stir up an envy like the VP sis with her, but at the moment she wanted to screw Patteson in another way. 

There she was in bed, her legs squeezed tight against each other. 

She knows that the shower is only down the hall if she wants to get rid of the heat with a cold shower. 

Yet, she doesn’t resist. Instead, she feels her hand creeping up her thigh displacing her dress up. She sneaks her hand past the waistband of her underwear and feels her wetness. She turns onto her back, her fingers sliding inside of her and the pleasure radiating from her heat. “Fuck.” Tasha muffles.

Her fingers are busy at work, moving furiously on and around her clit, it’s then that Patterson infiltrates her thoughts. She remembers the VP’s touch on her thigh and how it felt to have her between her legs. Tasha’s back slowly lifts upwards trying to get the most pressure off of her touch. She notices her small moans becoming choppy, but she pushes through it until she seems to tense up and then collapse at orgasm. Her wetness allows for her to crank up the speed of her fingers leading up to her orgasm. Tasha’s hand is still on her thigh seeming to continue mirroring Patterson’s touch. 

As the wave of pleasure fled, as one of guilt and self-hate entered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again sorry for not updating sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to make any suggestions, though a few chapters have already been written/planned ahead.
> 
> I'd love to know what you think! And anything you have to say. :)


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